


Cold Showers And Icy Looks

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Crack, F/M, Just silliness really, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: in which Emma and Killian have just battled a dragon, and Killian stumbles through some unintentional double-entendre as he tries to deal with the aftermath.Based on a prompt - how did Killian find out what “a quick and bracing shower” really means? Why, in the worst possible way, of course.





	Cold Showers And Icy Looks

Killian pressed out curses between panting breaths as he helped David half-drag, half-carry Emma through the door of the loft. Snow White stood holding the door open, her eyes wide and worried. Emma slumped between the two men, her arms draped over their shoulders as they turned awkwardly to get through the narrow door.

“Almost there now, love,” Killian muttered, gritting his teeth against the pain blooming in his side every time Emma swayed into him. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed it, but it turned out that dragonfire burns did wonders to dampen the mood.

Killian hoped vaguely that David never figured _that_ out. One such experience was quite enough for a lifetime. Several lifetimes, in fact, if he was any judge—which, it so happened, he was.

“I’m okay,” Emma managed, the words coming out slurred and between gasps.

“All a matter of perspective, I’m sure,” Killian said wryly, even as David grunted, “You are _not_.”

“Over here, on the bed,” Snow called, pulling the blankets out of the way hastily.

As carefully as they could manage, they laid Emma down on the bed, David moving quickly to take most of her weight. Killian let him, just as glad to step back for once. His side was burning; it felt like liquid fire was licking over his ribs. As Snow and David bent over their daughter, he slipped a surreptitious hand under his heavy coat and felt the mess beneath it. Dragonfire had burned away most of his shirt, but from the feel of it, some of the fabric had fused to the flesh beneath. Even the slightest touch was agony, but there was no blood. Cauterised by the fire, he thought, fighting back a wince.

It didn’t matter. Emma was hurt a lot worse than he was. Her magic seemed to have sapped her strength, and her right arm was charred and bloodied from shoulder to elbow. Blood spattered her face and hair, though he knew those wounds, at least, were superficial.

“Her arm’s been burnt,” Snow said, her voice tight with concern. “Where is Regina?”

“She’ll be along as soon as she can,” Killian said. Regina had stayed behind to make sure the dragon was safely bound—not an easy job, if the look she’d given him was any indication, though Snow and David were probably unaware. Just as unaware as they were of the injury he was hiding under his coat.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was that Henry was safe, and Emma was alive.

“We should cut away as much of the shirt as we can,” Killian went on, his eyes on Emma’s injured arm as he reached for his dagger, careful to keep his face from betraying the twinges of pain the movement caused.

David gave him a sharp look. It took Killian a moment to realise what he meant by it, and when he did, he glowered at the man. She was _hurt_. He couldn’t care less what she wore, or didn’t wear.

“From the arm,” he clarified. “That wound needs cleaning, so the sleeve needs to go, and I don’t advise trying to pull it off unless you want to cause her undue pain.”

Looking marginally contrite, David nodded, and took the proffered dagger from Killian. He began cutting away the sleeve with practiced motions that reminded Killian that long before they’d met, the prince had fought in a rebellion. It was clear that neither he nor Snow had been the kind of leader who issued orders from well behind the lines.

Emma whimpered from behind gritted teeth as David cut away her sleeve and Snow probed the injury gently. “Shh,” Snow said, her voice gentle. “You’re gonna be okay, Emma.”

Killian shifted restlessly, sending a renewed wave of agony along his side. Right now, he would have given his ship for a cold bath, or just some cold water to soothe the ache. But he knew better than to ask for it outright. It was an odd enough request that it would alert the others to the fact that he was not all right after all, and he knew they’d feel honour-bound to help him. He couldn’t do that. Emma needed it more than he did.

But she didn’t need him right now. And he remembered about bathrooms from his time at Granny’s—the loft had one, he knew, and there had to be a bath or a shower in there.

“If you don’t need me,” he said tentatively, “would you mind terribly if I availed myself of the shower?”

Snow looked up at him, a slight frown on her face. “The shower?”

“Aye, it’s all been a rather... warm affair,” he said as casually as he could manage, with a rueful smile. “I could use a cold shower.”

David’s head whipped around, a glower on his face. To Killian’s utter surprise, his face was turning red. In fact, if Killian hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that the prince’s eyes had dipped, just momentarily, down his torso, before flicking back up—but that had to have been a trick of the light, or a twitch caused by concern for his daughter.

The incredulous censure in his glaze, however, was definitely real. “Seriously?”

Off-balance, but unwilling to admit it, Killian shrugged. “Only if it’s not too much trouble,” he said, thinking that maybe the prince didn’t want a pirate in any more of his home than absolutely necessary. He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll—”

“No, no, go,” David said quickly, and he actually made a shooing motion with the hand that was still holding the dagger. “Go.”

“It really isn’t all that pressing—”

David held up a hand, now looking a little panicked. “Please, we don’t need to know. Just go. Go!”

Killian went.

When he returned ten minutes later, the ache in his side now a gentle ache, like a bruise, and the wound and ruined shirt safely hidden under his coat, Emma was propped up on pillows, her eyes open. Regina stood over her, hands spread. As Killian watched, the angry red skin on Emma’s arm faded back to pale.

David glanced up as Killian joined them. “Right,” he said. “Well, now that we can all _concentrate_...”

“David,” Snow cut him off, admonishing.

“What? You think that was appropriate?” David demanded. “She’s _injured_.”

Killian looked from one to the other, mystified. Was this some kind of social faux pas in this realm, bathing while someone else was hurt? He’d never heard of such a thing, and couldn’t imagine a single reason for it. It was pretty clear that David thought he’d just done something diabolical; he knew that look on the man’s face. It was a look he hadn’t seen in a while; these days, even saying something risqué mostly just got him some good-natured exasperation from the prince. This was a different look. It was the “stay away from my daughter, pirate” look, the look that reminded him that David had a sword and knew how to use it.

But he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what he’d done to deserve it this time.

*  *  *

He thought that perhaps David would raise the matter again, given how much he usually enjoyed criticising Killian, but the prince contented himself with the occasional odd look bordering on a glower. But Killian’s curiosity was piqued. He saw his chance when he found himself sitting in Granny’s diner with Ruby and Emma, waiting for the others to show up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, turning to Emma. “I fear I’ve offended your father, and this time, I honestly don’t know the how of it.”

Emma slanted him a look. “Is this where I get to find out why he’s been grumbling about ‘damn lecherous pirates’ all week?”

“Ah, I’m inclined to think so,” Killian said, glowering a little despite himself. _Lecherous_? “I think he took exception to my using the shower at the loft, following our battle with the dragon.”

Ruby frowned. “Why would—oh. _Tell_ me you asked first?”

“Of course I asked,” he said defensively.

“Did you lock the door?” Ruby asked. “Got dressed _before_ you came back out?”

“Of bloody course,” he snapped. “What do you take me for?”

“A gentleman, obviously,” Ruby said, grinning. “Relax. I’m just trying to figure out why David’s annoyed about it.”

“So it’s not a faux-pas to ask to use the shower?” Killian asked.

“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” Emma said, looking confused. “What’d you actually say?”

“I simply expressed a wish for a cold shower while your parents tended to—”

He broke off. Ruby and Emma were looking at each other, and he could tell that it meant something. Ruby spoke first. “Oh my god.”

“Ruby, don’t—” Emma warned.

“Oh, Hook,” Ruby all but sang. “Okay, look, the thing about cold showers is that—”

“Ruby—”

“Swan, I want to hear this,” Killian cut Emma off, aggravated all over again by the feeling that he was missing something crucial, hovering just out of reach. He gestured at Ruby. “Please. Go on.”

“Well, in this realm, a cold shower is sort of a... well, not a euphemism, because a lot of the time the guys actually _do_ take one, but you know what I mean. It’s what you do when you get a little too… excited.”

He understood her meaning at once, with a mixture of embarrassment and resignation. To his horror, he could feel the beginnings of a blush trying to creep up his neck. “Ah.”

“You know, like when you’re hanging out with a pretty girl, and—”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” he assured her. He was familiar with the concept, after all; he’d threatened various crew members with a dip in the ocean’s icy waters on several occasions when they’d shown signs of being unable to control themselves. It usually hadn’t been necessary to follow through. His anger, he’d quickly learned, tended to have much the same effect.

Not for the first time, he reflected that David would probably have made a good captain.

“Did you really ask my dad if you could take a cold shower?” Emma asked weakly.

“Aye.” He thought for a moment, then grinned, a little sheepishly. “I suppose that gave rather the wrong impression, given that you were lying abed and rather badly injured at the time.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Ruby said, looking delighted.

Killian was rather less than delighted at the revelation that David thought him capable of looking at an injured woman and finding the sight arousing. What did the man take him for? Surely he’d proven himself to be a little better a man than that?

Part of him, the long-buried upstanding lieutenant who’d scowled at rum and turned away willing maidens in taverns with a gentle smile, was mortified. But the pirate in him was quickly realising that, behind the anger and outrage, David was bound to be a lot more embarrassed by the whole thing than Killian could ever manage. Emma seemed a little discomfited, too, as though worried what he was going to make of it all… but he knew the solution to that, at least.

“I should set him straight,” Killian said, his eyes on Emma for her reaction. “Explain that I really just wanted to—”

“No, I think it’s better to just let it go,” Emma said firmly.

“Swan, I’ve no wish to have your father think me the worst kind of scoundrel. Or worse.”

“I don’t think you should bring it up again.”

He gave her his best innocent look. “He’s the one who jumped to conclusions.”

“ _Hook._ ”

“ _Yes_ , love. He keeps glaring at me, too. I really can’t abide it.”

“You should be used to that by now.”

“I’d rather been getting used to not being glared at, actually.”

“I don’t think bring this up again will help.”

“It’ll help clear my conscience.”

“You really are—” Emma broke off, apparently unable to find a word for what he was. There was no trace of discomfort or embarrassment in her face or voice now.

He grinned, triumphant. “Aye, love. I know.”

*  *  *

He toyed with the idea of using the newly-learned implication on purpose and provoking the prince further. But David was already mad at him, and he was rather a good swordsman, and really, Killian thought, it was probably bad form to torment the father of the woman you were courting.

And it wasn’t like bringing the subject up outright was a lot more comfortable, anyway. He’d banished his own embarrassment, but David’s wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you know, I learned something the other day, mate,” he said loudly, the first chance he got, when he once again found himself in at the Charmings’ loft to discuss strategy. Across the table from him, Emma looked suddenly tense, but she was too far away to do anything, and telling him to shush would have invited attention.

David’s eyes were narrowed as he looked at Killian. “Yeah?”

“Aye. Do you remember the other day, when I asked to use your shower?” Killian asked. “To help with the burns, from the dragon?”

David’s eyes stayed narrowed, but he didn’t speak.

“Well, I’ve since been given to understand that taking a shower is a rather common euphemism in this realm,” Killian went on blithely. “A means to combat arousal, as I learned. Imagine my consternation at the idea that my words might have been taken to refer to such a thing.”

David blinked. His face was turning a delicate shade of pink, and he looked away, clearing his throat. Beside him, Snow looked for all the world like she was trying not to laugh. “Oh _no_ ,” she said. “I hope no one jumped to any conclusions like that.”

“As do I,” Killian said, inclining his head to her. “They’d think me the worst kind of scoundrel, no doubt.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Snow said, in a tone that told Killian that this might have been a subject of discussion before now. “Would we, David?”

“No,” David managed. “No, of course not.”

Killian almost felt bad for him—but really, given the man’s assumptions, and their implications about his, Killian’s, character, he deserved a little discomfort.

“I think if anyone _had_ jumped to any conclusions, he’d be very sorry and apologise,” Snow told Killian in a stage whisper.

“Well then I’d say it’s a good thing no one did,” Killian said gravely.

Emma, to his mild surprise, was just watching the proceedings with an amused look on her face. When she noticed him looking at her, she shrugged. “I think your mind would have to be in the gutter to make those kinds of assumptions,” she said. “And we all know only lecherous pirates have a mind like _that_.”

Killian knew that moments like this were why he found Emma so irresistibly attractive, and tried very hard to keep from showing it. But really, he could have kissed that little smirk, the one she always got when she’d just said something clever and knew it, right off her face.

“Okay stop,” David growled, holding up a hand amidst the laughter that went up around the table. “I get it.” But he was laughing, too, much to Killian’s relief.

Cold showers, he mused, making a mental note to remember both the phrase and the strategy. Because if he knew Emma Swan at all, and he rather thought he did, and if she was going to keep going the way she was, and he rather thought she would, he was going to need both.


End file.
